


Birthday in my new home

by A_fighter_like_Eowyn



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Arranged Marriage, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Boys In Love, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Husbands, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Love, Love Confessions, Loving Marriage, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Rape, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Post-Wedding, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Romantic Fluff, Same-Sex Marriage, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:09:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_fighter_like_Eowyn/pseuds/A_fighter_like_Eowyn
Summary: Jaskier spends his first birthday since his marriage to Geralt :-)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	Birthday in my new home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Geraskier_Rights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geraskier_Rights/gifts), [panofaar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panofaar/gifts).



> I hope my two closest friends on Ao3 whom I gifted this work to will enjoy the piece :-) This is my first time writing an alpha-omega piece. Please let me know your thoughts -- all my readers :-)

Jaskier blinked blearily as his eyes tried to adjust to the brilliant sunshine flooding through the open windows and dappling the floor and the bed he was lying on. Even for a spring morning, it was unusually bright and already rather warm. A mellow breeze was making the gauzy curtains flutter, and Jaskier could see the heads of the bright gold daffodils and soft pink anemones and vivid red tulips tossing and swaying in the breeze. He could hear bees buzzing and birds chirping and warbling happily away all around him. Even the lush, sprawling fields and rolling green hills and the loftier cliffs of the mountain range in the distance seemed to radiate joy and brim with new life and promises of new beginnings. 

All in all, it was a good day to celebrate one's birthday.

Jaskier smiled sleepily as memories of past birthdays crowded into his mind. He hailed from a rather poor family, and at times, indigence had pushed his parents to all but beg for alms in order to keep him and his sister Essie fed and clothed. But they had always been a rather resilient lot. Somehow, his (equally impoverished) aunts and uncles always managed to rally around his struggling parents, and together, they succeeded in pulling themselves out of these intermittent setbacks. And not a year went by when Jaskier's birthday didn't mark the joyous gathering of all members of their big family, cooking and baking and feasting together and making merry late into the night. To Jaskier, despite the abject poverty he and Essie and their cousins had grown up in, birthdays, therefore, were special and auspicious -- rare and precious days on which they were able to blessedly forget about their relentless hardship and struggles. The birthday feasts had in reality been extremely humble (and often inadequate) fares, the gifts few and almost always second-hand, old and faded, and the decorations had chiefly constituted modest garlands woven out of wildflowers and occasionally, pastel paintings made by his sweet young sister. But none of these shortcomings could deprive Jaskier of the soaring happiness and deep sense of gratitude he felt for having been blessed with such a loving, tightly-knit, supportive family and the ways in which they strove to make his birthdays memorable. 

This birthday, however, was different.

Because this was the first time that he would spend his birthday away from home. Away from his parents and his dearest Essie and his uncles and aunts and cousins and grandparents. Away from their tiny cottage, set amidst a meadow on the banks of a hurrying little mountain stream. Away from their lovely little village surrounded by forests and mountains. Away from home.

_This was the first time he would spend his birthday in his husband's home._

Jaskier was nineteen. He had presented as an omega when he was sixteen. His parents had fought against the conservative, orthodox members of the village council and their parochial, outdated views on what the purpose of an omega's life should be in order to keep sending him to the village school. He had finished school, and his parents had willingly gone nearly bankrupt in an attempt to send him to college in Oxenfurt, to fulfill his dreams of studying literature, history, mythology and music. But it had not culminated in the outcome they had fervently hoped for.

Thanks to the way his family members and neighbours had pitched in and donated generously, and thanks to the enthusiastic praises for Jaskier's diligence, adroitness and zeal that some of his progressive, forward-thinking teachers at school had penned in their letters of recommendation, Jaskier had been accepted into Oxenfurt's most prestigious college for literature, history and fine arts when he was seventeen. It had been the happiest day of his life. And he had set out for Oxenfurt just a week after receiving their offer letter. 

He had shone like a star in his class, excelling in every subject. The professors had been charmed not only by his proficiency and his industriousness, but also by his polite, respectful mannerisms and his eagerness to learn as much as he could. The college principal, Professor McGonagall, who was a fierce social reformer and a staunch supporter of the Omega Rights Movement, had gone out of her way to fetch potions from Mother Nenneke of the Temple of Melitele in Ellander to help Jaskier cope with the crippling pain during his heats, and to suppress his scent. This in turn had helped Jaskier focus better on his studies and not miss any lecture due to the heats.

It had all been going swimmingly. That is, until one evening, a few months into his second year at Oxenfurt, when Jaskier had been assaulted and raped by his classmate, Valdo Marx.

Valdo had come to attend Oxenfurt from a rich, aristocratic background. He was an alpha, and an obnoxiously arrogant one at that. And he had never been okay with the fact that Jaskier surpassed him in every single subject, and it was Jaskier -- a measly omega weakling from a desperately impecunious family -- whom the professors favoured. To say that he had been jealous would be an understatement -- he had been seething, and he had been looking for a way to "show the omega its place". And when the opportunity presented itself, he had pounced on it.

Jaskier had been rescued by a patrol of soldiers, Valdo had been taken captive and later convicted (thanks to the active support lent by Jaskier's professors and eye-witnesses among the patrolling regiment, for otherwise Valdo would have slithered free due to his family's political connections and considerable influence with the ruling class), and the so-called justice had been served.

But it had broken Jaskier.

He had come home, giving up on his studies, despite his professors and classmates imploring him to stay. McGonagall had, after much attempts at persuasion, reluctantly allowed Jaskier to leave, but not without expressly telling him and his devastated parents that she hoped he would return once he recovers sufficiently from the trauma, and that the doors of her college would forever be open to him.

Nearly a year had passed by since that fateful incident, and Jaskier had stayed at home all that time. It had helped revive him to an extent -- the company of his beloved family and neighbours, the delectable dishes (however humble) lovingly cooked by his Ma, the evening walks with Essie, the mornings spent reading in the local library, the gentle encouragement of his Baba to continue to write poetry and compose and sing songs. The healing had been gradual, and often punctuated by panic attacks and extensive spells of anxiety and depression and days spent languishing in a state of dejected, despondent stupor. Slowly but steadily, Jaskier had regained, to some extent, his easy smiles and the twinkle in his bright cornflower-blue eyes and the bounce in his steps. Hope and optimism had slowly crawled back into his heart.

And yet, somehow, he had found himself shaking his head when his parents had, one evening, gently sat him down and asked him if he was ready to return. He had felt a strange unwillingness towards going back to that city, and the memories had brought nothing but an onslaught of gut-wrenching pain and a bout of nausea.

And then, his Baba had asked him a different question.

"Jaskier, sweetheart?", and Jaskier had looked up curiously at the hesitation evident in his Baba's voice, "Wou-would you like to meet someone, son?"

"Meet someone, Baba? What do you ..."

"Yes. Um ... do you remember Vesemir? The very old and venerated Witcher from the School of the Wolf whom your Ma and I once helped heal from some near-mortal injuries he sustained while hunting down a pack of Alghouls close by?"

"Yes, of course. You have told me that story countless times. He remains a close friend of yours, doesn't he, Baba?"

"Yes, indeed. Now Vesemir ... he has three sons. Pups, he calls them. His favourite is the youngest one. A white-haired Witcher, named Geralt. Your Ma and I met him once, while you were away in Oxenfurt -- he is a very sweet boy, Jaskier. And Vesemir is currently looking for a suitable groom for him."

_Oh!_

Jaskier had blushed crimson, and his face had dipped down instantly, shyness and trepidation mingling in his expression.

"We think it would be really nice for you two to meet, my son. Of course, only if you want to, honey", his Baba had added hastily.

For reasons that Jaskier still could not quite fathom -- could not quite place his finger on -- he had said yes.

Geralt had indeed proved to be a very sweet, soft-spoken (if a little reticent), kindhearted, gentle soul. In their first meeting, which took place at Jaskier's home (Vesemir, Geralt and Vesemir's middle son, Eskel and his wife, Triss, having traveled quite a distance to get there), Jaskier had been struck by the way Geralt treated his parents -- with utmost respect and reverence. He had spoken to Jaskier's Ma and Baba as if they were his very own parents, and he and Essie had taken to each other as if they were long-sundered siblings. Eskel and Triss had been equally warm, and although Vesemir had initially seemed a tad intimidating, Jaskier had soon discovered what a kind, loving and fatherly person he was. 

And then finally, the elders had urged that the two prospective grooms go out into the meadow and take a walk together. Geralt had, very shyly, extended his hand, palm upturned, towards Jaskier, and Jaskier had, twice as shyly, placed his much smaller hand in the secure, steadying, strong yet gentle grasp of that unusually warm hand. When they had strolled far out of earshot of their family members, Jaskier had turned towards Geralt and said, with his eyes downcast and his lips wobbling a teensy bit:

"I am not sure if Baba told you, or if he told Uncle Vesemir, b-but I think you d-deserve to know. I ... I was ..."

He had choked a bit, and Geralt, sensing his distress, had placed his other hand on his shoulder, firmly and in a way that had anchored Jaskier to the present instead of allowing his mind to drift off and lose itself in the ominously dark and debilitating memories of the past year. Jaskier had looked up at Geralt with eyes beginning to brim with tears, taken a steady breath, and blurted out:

"I was raped. I ... I was raped. I was raped."

_All Geralt had done was pull the now sobbing Jaskier firmly into the confines of his broad, sculpted chest, and held him there with his strong, brawny arms encircling the human, cocooning him._

_All Geralt had done was let Jaskier press his face into the folds of his shirt and cry his heart out, as his tears steadily drenched the shirtfront._

_All Geralt had done was stand there for several long minutes with his hands rubbing up and down Jaskier's arms, rubbing soothing circles on Jaskier's back, and uttering not a single word of complaint as torrent after torrent of pained sobs tore through the human._

At last, when Jaskier had been absolutely spent, and Geralt's warm, soothing embrace, his comforting hands on Jaskier's back, his gentle fingers threading through Jaskier's hair and lovingly cradling his head had helped alleviate the pain and bitterness in his heart, he had pulled back a bit and looked up at Geralt through wet lashes.

"Your parents did not hide a single word of this incident when they spoke to Da about the possibility of our wedding", Geralt had stated simply, and Jaskier had gaped.

"Y-you knew?"

"Yes."

"And you don't mind -?"

"Of course not."

"But I am ... I have been _defiled_ , Geralt! My honour ... it's been taken from me! I am just a ... a desecrated, sullied, unwanted and unworthy ..."

"That will be enough!"

Jaskier had immediately clamped his mouth shut, staring wide-eyed at Geralt. Geralt, whose jaws had clenched, whose face had hardened, and whose eyes had begun burning like two blazing chips of orange sapphire.

"I was not aware that an individual's honour is decided by the actions of their rapist! I was not aware that your honour is solely decided by whether you have been breached violently and against your will by a depraved, despicable, damnable arsehole or whether you are a pristine, untouched virgin when your husband takes you to bed! And _defiled_ , Jaskier? No one, and I repeat, _no one_ , has the power to defile and desecrate another human, because no matter what that vile monster did to your body, he could not and can never touch your soul! Can never besmirch the purity of your soul, of your heart, of your spirit! Your spirit remains true, and your heart remains loving and loyal and kind, and that one incident, however traumatic, is **not** going to decide the rest of your life, Jaskier. _I am not going to let that happen, you understand?_ "

Jaskier had stared at Geralt with his mouth slightly hanging open, and Geralt had stood there, panting heavily and with his eyes boring into Jaskier's. 

"And unworthy, Jaskier? Unwanted? We just walked out of that house, and every single person in that house loves you with all their heart. And _I_ want you. I want you and I wish to cherish you and hold you close and keep you safe and loved in my heart and in my home for the rest of our lives together."

And that had triggered yet another spell of heaving sobs from Jaskier, wringing every last tear-drop out of him. He had once again stood with his face buried in Geralt's chest, and Geralt had said nothing, patiently holding him and rubbing his back and waiting for him to hiccup himself back into a modicum of calm.

And when Jaskier had looked up again, Geralt had smiled down at him, wiping away his tears, and then whispered:

"Do you think ... um ... that perhaps ... perhaps you too could come to wish for a life with me? By my side? I shall, of course, understand if you need time to decide, or ... um ... if you decide otherwi--"

Jaskier had pressed his palm to Geralt's lips, cutting off the question that was quickly becoming a slightly panicked babble.

"Yes", was all that he had said.

They had gotten married a week later. 

On their wedding night, Geralt had pulled a furiously blushing Jaskier into his lap, held him to his chest like he were something fragile and precious, and told him that they could wait as long as Jaskier needed to before consummating their marriage. He had suggested that they begin nice and slow, getting to know each other and forging a strong emotional bond before seeking to explore each other physically. He had suggested that the pace they set from then onward should be decided by Jaskier, and that Jaskier should take as much time as he deemed necessary before they became sexually intimate with each other.

The first week had been spent warming up to one another, cooking together in the kitchenette of Geralt's hut, sharing meals from the same platter, sitting side by side underneath the open sky and admiring the star-studded, velvet-black canopy overhead, staying up late into the night chatting softly, conversing on a thousand different topics, sharing a million different stories from their lives before they had met. They had huddled on their shared bed with their heads together as they poured over the precious tomes on mythology that Geralt had painstakingly gathered during his long travels around the Continent. They had tended together to the little patch of garden surrounding the hut, planting new saplings and sprinkling seeds of melons and pumpkins and a myriad other vegetables and fruits. They had gone on long walks -- sometimes to the market, sometimes to the town's outskirts, sometimes to the dense woods that shrouded the hills nearby. Jaskier had penned a short but exquisite poem for Geralt, and Geralt had played his flute for Jaskier. Jaskier had gleaned what Geralt's favourite dishes were and had cooked a few of them, while Geralt had dipped into his savings and purchased Jaskier a new notebook and quills, and gotten his lute repaired and oiled. 

That first week, they had held each other's hands, their fingers intertwined. They had snaked their arms around one another, one's head resting on the other's shoulder. They had traded soft, shy glances and shy smiles, and they had exchanged quick, chaste pecks on each other's cheeks. They had cuddled each other and fallen asleep with one's face snuggled into the confines of the other's chest. They had pressed kisses to one another's forehead and hummed lullabies while lying side by side on their bed.

The first week had sped by in a blur, and Jaskier had felt his heart becoming lighter and more joyful with each passing day.

At the beginning of the second week, Geralt had had to leave for a monster-slaying contract. Money was tight (Geralt and his family was not much wealthier than Jaskier's), and marauding monsters were aplenty in early spring.

That day, Jaskier had prepared Geralt's favourite dish of fish pie, having gone to the market himself and purchasing the best fish he could afford to with some of the money he had brought all the way from his own home. Geralt had loved it, smacking his lips and showering praises on Jaskier. At the door, Geralt had turned around, and suddenly pulled Jaskier to himself, their chests flush against each other.

Jaskier had blushed, but his arms had come to drape themselves on Geralt's shoulders, even as Geralt had leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Jaskier's.

"Don't miss me too much, okay, boo?"

"I can't promise you that, boo", Jaskier had pouted, and his eyes had shone with unshed tears, "Please ... please be safe, love. Please take care of yourself. Please don't get hurt. And please come home as soon as you can."

And Geralt, for the first time ever, had leaned in and placed a soft, sweet kiss to Jaskier's lips. Jaskier had moaned, his eyes slipping closed, and then his plump, pliant lips had moulded perfectly with Geralt's more commanding ones. The kiss had lasted a mere heartbeat, and had been neither too deep nor too passionate, but it had held the promise of countless such heated, impassioned kisses to come. 

For some reason, Jaskier had not mentioned to Geralt that his birthday was in another week. That if Geralt did not return from the monster-hunt within the next seven days, he would miss Jaskier's birthday.

He was not sure why he could not bring himself to beseech to Geralt to come home before his birthday. Perhaps it was part of the humble, shy human he was -- his hesitation in demanding such a thing from Geralt, and his reluctance to appear as someone who needed to be coddled on his birthday. Perhaps there was a small part of him -- a rather impish one, to be sure -- that wanted to find out if Geralt would remember. Perhaps it was something else. 

After Geralt had left, Jaskier had shut the door behind him, slid down to the floor, drawn his knees up to his chest, and broken down. 

_He could not have explained, if anyone had cared to ask, what those tears were for. If they were happy tears or not. Whether the reason they spilled from his eyes was because how his heart fell full to bursting at the love he felt for Geralt and at the prospect of the life that lay ahead of them -- the life that they would share with each other, or if the reason was that he was terrified of Geralt getting hurt during the hunt, or worse. Perhaps it was a combination of all these things._

This second week crawled by agonizingly slowly. Jaskier had been worried sick for his husband, and had found little solace in writing poetry and composing songs. Triss had checked on him, and even Vesemir and Lambert, Geralt's oldest brother, had come by to make sure he was holding up okay, and although he had been grateful for their visits, his fear for Geralt's safety could not be allayed. 

And the week went by without Geralt showing up. 

And Jaskier's birthday dawned bright and crisp and clear. 

Jaskier's smile disappeared as he recalled that his husband had not come home yet. The sleep too lifted from his eyes, and he sat up on the bed, rubbing his face and knuckling his eyes tiredly. These last few days he had not slept well, and had been startled awake throughout the night by nightmares -- nightmares in which he had relived his rape and where Geralt had been a bloody mess on the ground, his flesh torn to shreds by monsters. The hellish dreams had left Jaskier frantic, restless and at the same time, utterly exhausted.

When he removed the knuckles from his eyes and blinked, the room came into a clearer focus. And his breath hitched. 

_There were thick garlands of orange and golden-yellow marigolds draped all along the earthen walls of their bedroom! And several more of them dangled from the top of the doorframe, forming a floral curtain for the doorway that led to the living room._

_Quite a few (evidently newly purchased) cut-glass bowls were arranged on the cabinet and their shared study table, filled with crystal-clear water, and on the surface there daintily floated huge globes of water-lilies in shades of the purest white and palest pink, lovely white plumerias with their vibrant yellow centres, and rose blossoms in an intense, deep shade of scarlet._

_A row of skillfully crafted decorative earthen oil-lamps stood on the windowsills, ready to be lit in the evening. A couple of censers stood on the cabinet, and the soft fragrance of burning incense gently permeated the room._

Jaskier gaped slack-jawed at all this, his eyes wide with bewilderment and total incredulity. And then, he heard the muffled clatter of utensils and cookpots coming from the kitchenette.

_And at the same time, the aroma that wafted out of the kitchenette and hit his nose made Jaskier inhale deeply and close his eyes with an unhesitating "Mmmmm!"._

_The aroma of a simple yet delectable sponge-cake being baked in their little oven!_

_And the aroma of the rich, luscious, sweet rice pudding that was made with thickened milk and cardamom and jaggery and was traditional fare for birthdays!_

With a squeal of glee, Jaskier jumped down from the bed and rushed to the kitchen. His eyes barely registered the glass vases full of tulips and roses and anemones and carnations that stood lining the walls and on tops of bookcases and cupboards and tables, the garlands of marigolds and gerberas and roses and jasmines that hung from the walls like streamers, the scented beeswax candles and earthen oil-lamps that stood in the alcoves and on the windowsills. Because his eyes frantically sought the person he had been waiting an entire week to welcome back into his arms.

Geralt stood in the kitchen, his back to Jaskier, humming under his breath as he stirred the rice pudding simmering in a huge cookpot. 

"Boo!", whispered Jaskier.

Geralt whirled around, and beamed.

"Hi, boo!", and he opened his arms wide.

Jaskier all but slammed into his chest. 

"You're back! You're ... I missed you", Jaskier could not hold back his tears, and Geralt pressed him deeper into his chest, planting kisses on his head and shushing him, "You were gone so long, boo ... I missed you ... I didn't think you would come home in time for ..."

He trailed off, because right that moment, the realization of what really was going on settled deep inside his heart.

_The realization that not only had Geralt come back in time for his birthday, he had remembered his birthday and had evidently gone out of his way -- spent a considerable amount of his savings -- to make preparations for celebrating the day. He had gone into the trouble of decorating their entire home in order to give it a festive look. He was currently cooking birthday delicacies for Jaskier. He had already begun the celebrations and Jaskier knew it was going to be the grandest, most splendid birthday of his life so far._

Jaskier let out an inadvertent gasp. And when Geralt pried him off his chest and cupped his face in his palms, tilting his eyes up to meet those beautiful amber-gold orbs, Jaskier mumbled, "You ... you remembered ... and you ... you ..."

"You didn't think I would remember and celebrate your birthday, Jasky?", Geralt smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Jaskier blushed. "Thank you, dear heart", he said in a soft, shy voice.

And in the next second, Geralt swooped down and snatched his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Jaskier melted into the kiss, and whimpered as Geralt's tongue darted into his mouth to explore and savour his taste. They clung to each other, their lips melding together and moving in tandem as their breaths grew rapid and their heated skin tingled from the tantalizing touches of their roaming hands. They moaned in abandon into each other's mouth, and when finally they parted, their lips were swollen and they were breathless. 

"Happy birthday, Jasky, light of my life!"

************************************************************************

It turned out that Geralt's entire family had taken it upon themselves to celebrate Jaskier's birthday the best they could. 

Triss opened up a portal in the afternoon, and in trooped through it Jaskier's entire family -- his parents, Essie, his uncles and aunts and cousins and grandparents. Vesemir and Lambert and Eskel helped Geralt with cooking dinner for everyone and lighting up the lamps and candles and the iridescent paper lanterns that Eskel had hung from the ceiling of the porch. Jaskier cut the simply but elegantly adorned cake to deafening applause and cheers, then served a small piece to every member of their combined family, beginning with his parents and then Geralt. The rather small dining-table was pushed to one side, and the only rug that Geralt and Jaskier possessed was rolled out on the floor, and the entire family sat down in a big ring on it to enjoy the scrumptious (and in Jaskier's opinion, absolutely lavish) dinner. 

The guests left late at night, Triss having opened up a second portal to transport them back to their homes. Geralt and Jaskier hugged each of them and bid them goodbye, and promised every one of them that they would visit soon. 

They walked back into the hut, hand in hand. Geralt shut the door, and when he turned back, it was to Jaskier curling himself into his chest. Geralt's arms came up to embrace Jaskier tightly.

"Thank you, boo", Jaskier mumbled from where his face was buried in the folds of Geralt's shirt.

"The pleasure and honour are all mine, boo."

Jaskier burrowed deeper into his husband's chest, and sighed happily, wondering what he had done to deserve someone so amazing and loving and compassionate.

"Baby?"

"Mmm, boo?"

"I have something important to tell you."

Jaskier pulled back, looking up at Geralt with a slight frown puckering his brow.

"Yes?"

"There is a reason why I was late in coming back from the hunt. The hunt only took me three days. But I ... I went somewhere else after that."

Jaskier waited, unsure where this conversation was going.

"I ... went to Oxenfurt."

Jaskier's eyes widened. His heart gave a painful lurch.

"I ... um ... spoke to Professor McGonagall. It was very gracious of her to grant me audience without any appointment. And she sends her regards and her blessings to us for a happily married life together."

Jaskier felt his eyes tearing up at the mention of his beloved professor's name.

"You don't know how many times, and how emphatically, she asked me if you were perhaps ready to come back to college, Jasky."

Jaskier stifled a sob with difficulty.

"She let me know the college would waive all your tuition fees if you choose to come back. As long as I can pay for your room and board in Oxenfurt ..."

"Geralt, you can't--"

"No, Jasky, I can, and I want to. Yes, the funds will be scarce for a time. But I already managed to earn a hefty amount from this most recent hunt, and I have quite a bit of savings stacked away at Da's cottage. You and I can request Eskel and Triss to keep an eye on this hut and come live here every alternate week or so, and we can head to Oxenfurt. We can rent a room in an inn there, or find accommodation as paying guests. The city is close to Novigrad, and I am confident that I can find plenty of monster-slaying assignments. We will have to live modestly, but it is doable Jaskier." 

And that was the last straw.

Jaskier burst into tears.

"Geralt, honey, I ... I never ... never ever thought I could go back there ... I just ... the memories of that evening ... I could not make myself, no matter how much I yearned to return and finish my studies ... the thought of being alone in Oxenfurt ... alone and vulnerable and ... and ..."

"I know, baby, I know", Geralt sat down on the floor, pulling Jaskier down and into his lap. Jaskier crumpled, curling into a ball and burrowing as deeply as he could into Geralt's chest. Geralt rocked him back and forth, rubbing his shoulders and back and comforting him with soothing murmurs into his ear.

"B-but ... i-if you come with me ... if you are there with me ... I think ... I think I can ..."

"Jasky?"

"Yes, boo?"

"You are the bravest human I have ever met."

Jaskier's head whipped up, and he stared at Geralt, eyes wide with disbelief. But Geralt's eyes held nothing but honesty, sincerity, and endless adoration for his husband.

"You can do it, Jasky. I know you can. I want you to chase every dream you have ever had. I want you to live to the fullest, be whoever you wish to be, do whatever your heart longs to, and never again cower in fear and self-doubt and self-loathing, my love."

"You truly, truly believe I can?"

"Yes, my heart. And I shall be by your side, shoulder to shoulder, and supporting you to the best of my abilities, every step of the way."

Jaskier surged forward and captured Geralt's lips in a prolonged kiss. Geralt returned the kiss with fervour, before breaking away and smiling down at his flushed husband with utter fondness and love.

"Here's my gift for you, Jasky."

Out came from the pocket of his shirt an envelope with a folded letter inside, bearing the official seal of The Oxenfurt Universität of Humanities and Fine Arts. The letter was penned in the usual tight, elegant cursive of Professor McGonagall, formally inviting Jaskier to come back and resume his studies at the college, and promising the waiver of all tuition and administrative fees.

"Go live your dream, husband mine."

Jaskier looked up from the letter and smiled tearfully at Geralt. 

"I don't know if I have ever received a more precious gift, Geralt. And despite my usual verbosity and florid poetry writing talents, I am not sure I can find words suitable enough to express my gratitude."

"Jasky, please ... it is the least I can do for your happiness, my love."

"No. No, Geralt. I don't think most alpha husbands would care this way for their omegas. You are incredible, extraordinary, unfailingly kind and noble, no matter how vehemently you deny those adjectives."

Geralt could not come up with an argument to counter the praises that Jaskier showered upon him. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Jaskier's, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply in his husband's chamomile-and-honey scent.

"But can I be a little shameless?"

Geralt's eyes flew open, and he immediately caught the twinkle of mischief in Jaskier's cornflower-blue eyes. He narrowed his own eyes, but the effect was marred by the indulgent smile that was tugging at his lips.

"I am going to be a wee bit shameless and tell you that this gift is amazing, but not enough."

"Oh? And what else have you in mind to demand of your poor Witcher husband, o traitorous human?"

Jaskier grinned, and leaning forward, whispered against Geralt's lips:

"You."

Geralt gasped, his throat suddenly feeling tight and his mouth dry, and his stomach tingled in anticipation.

"May I have you inside me, tonight? Will you take me to bed, husband mine? Will you be so kind as to make me yours forevermore?"


End file.
